


L'Exposition Universelle

by riddlemesphinx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 19th Century, F/M, First Kiss, Historical, Historical Accuracy, One Shot, Paris (City), Time Travel, World Fair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 01:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riddlemesphinx/pseuds/riddlemesphinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Late nineteenth century Paris,” he filled in. “And on a very special day, too.” Pointing in front of them, he indicated the large crowds of people gathered about. “Today is May 6, 1889. The opening of the 1889 </i>L’exposition Universelle<i>—the World Fair!”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Exposition Universelle

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DW Secret Santa Fic Exchange on tumblr. My prompt was "Nine and Rose's first kiss (before _Parting of the Ways_ )". Set somewhere between _The Long Game_ and _The Empty Child_.

For Rose Tyler, the best part of her new life was never knowing where or when she would next open her eyes. She could fall asleep as the TARDIS drifted over Halcya, and wake up on Kataa Floko with the Doctor calling her excitedly to come and see the diamond coral reefs. She would shuffle out into the control room, bleary-eyed and hair like a haystack on a windy day, and he’d drag her to the door, intolerably pleased with himself for such an early hour. There were other kinds of awakenings too, less pleasant but no less exciting: an alarm, a call for help, a sudden change in direction would jolt her from an unplanned doze against the control panel. He’d look at her then, and say just five words—the only five words it took to get her heart racing now:

“Change of plans, Rose Tyler!”

And they’d be off.

***

Sometimes, the Doctor would look at her once they were safely back inside the TARDIS. Really look at her, as she sprawled in a chair or on the floor, delighting in every second that she tried to catch her breath. During these times, she could almost catch the strange softness that flitted across his face, usually when it took a pause in his eyes as he studied her. Then it would be gone, and he would straighten with a cheeky smile and say, “Right. That’s enough running for one day, don’t you think?”

Those words…those words and that look set her heart to racing in a different way. When the Doctor decided they’d done enough running, it meant another kind of adventure altogether. He’d promised her the infinite opportunities presented within the whole of time and space—and he never failed to deliver. And he always surprised her, but it was always best when he actually tried to do so.

***

She was enjoying a cuppa in the kitchen when he came in and stole it from her, a small smile playing across his lips. “Go and get changed.”

“Oi,” she protested, trying unsuccessfully to reclaim her drink. “That’s rude. Can’t I finish my tea?”

“No,” he told her, still smiling. “Go and get changed.”

Sighing, but not without a rueful smile of her own, she stood. “Change into what, then? Where are we? When are we?”

The Doctor chuckled. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it? You know better than that, Rose. Now go on, the TARDIS will help you.” He patted a wall affectionately, then downed the rest of the tea while Rose yelped in protest. “Go! We haven’t got all day!”

She didn’t want to love this, but she did. God help her, but Rose loved it when he tried. She made her way to the wardrobe, excited to see what clues she could decipher from the clothes that would be waiting for her. Silly though it sometimes was, one of her favourite parts of the planned surprises was that she had time to dress for the occasion. No hitting the ground running in ancient Rome in tracky bottoms and a tee-shirt—and the TARDIS always knew what she’d need.

***

Twenty minutes later, she emerged into the control room and cleared her throat nervously. “Well? What d’you think, then?” She tugged on the cuff of one of her cream-coloured kid gloves and fiddled with the small button on the cuff while she waited for him to turn around.

When she looked up, she was surprised to find him staring. The Doctor often stared at her, in a variety of ways—disapproving, curious, amused—but never like this. Unnerved, she fisted her hands into the rich blue silk at her sides and made an awkward curtsy, giggling a little. “You like it? I’m guessing we’re somewhere a few centuries before my time? I feel so ridiculous.”

The Doctor blinked and cleared his throat. “No, you…you look lovely, Rose. Truly. You’ll fit right in.” Then, holding out his arm to her: “Ready to go?”

“Hang on, what about you, then?” Rose asked. “Haven’t you got to change too? I don’t think they’ve got leather jackets and things here—that is, wherever ‘here’ is. I’m just guessing that if I’ve got to have this thing,” and here she turned to the side, displaying the bustle in the back of her dress, “you’re not going to blend in looking like that.”

To her surprise, the Doctor burst out laughing. “What? What’s so funny?!”

Still chuckling, he started to move past her. “All right, all right. If you’re wearing that, I’ll lose the coat. I suppose it’s only fair.” He swatted at the bustle playfully, and Rose tried very hard to be outraged, causing his laughter to return in full force. “Oh, what? That thing ends way above you, anyway. Careful, or you’ll lose your pretty hat,” he teased, dodging her feeble, fabric-impeded attempt at a kick before disappearing into the wardrobe.

Fuming, she reached her hand up to the offending object and felt how loose it actually was. Swearing under her breath, she fumbled with the pins to try and attach the hat more securely to her hair. In her distraction, she didn’t hear him return a few minutes later until his voice was in her ear.

“Let me, I can see it better than you can. Hold still.” Then his fingers in her hair, deft and gentle, and soon the hat was properly immobile while she was left slightly dazed by the reminder of his breath on her neck.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, and turned to face him. He smiled that cheeky smile of his, spreading his arms wide. She took in the waistcoat, the cravat, the coat with the tails, and she could feel her jaw dropping. “Well, you look brilliant!” She poked him in the chest and grinned, curling the tip of her tongue over her teeth. “You should dress like that all the time. Very smart. Though I don’t think the parasol is really working for you.”

“It’s yours, you forgot it. I was just using it as a hat rack.” He lifted the top hat from the little umbrella’s handle and popped it onto his own head, then offered the parasol to her along with his arm. “Here you are. Ready, you?”

She took his arm; together, they strolled out of the TARDIS and into the sunlight.

***

“ _Paris_ ,” she gasped as her eyes adjusted to the sight before her. “Oh, Doctor, I’ve never been! This is _brilliant_!” Squeezing his arm more tightly, she hopped in place as much as her dress would allow. “We’re in—we’re in—”

“Late nineteenth century Paris,” he filled in. “And on a very special day, too.” Pointing in front of them, he indicated the large crowds of people gathered about. “Today is May 6, 1889. The opening of the 1889 _L’exposition Universelle_ —the World Fair!” He turned to face her, his grin now ear to ear. “It’s the debut of the Eiffel Tower, Rose, one of the most infamous structures to ever exist in your world.”

Rose could hardly catch her breath as he took both her hands in his and leaned forward to continue in a lower tone. “When the human race moves on, when your lot expands out into other galaxies, they will replicate this tower on almost every planet they colonize. They’ll even try to move this one at first, before the people of New New York petition to leave it where it now stands, as an everlasting testament to your kind. Oh, Rose. The role this amazing building has yet to play out in human history, you can’t even know. And here it is, bright and shining and new!” Turning again, he wrapped his arm securely around her as her head spun.

“It’ll be the tallest building on this entire _planet_ for over forty years—and keep in mind, that’s a long time for you humans at this point! Three hundred and twenty metres tall, and it only took two years to build. Can you believe that?! Right now, right at this moment, Eiffel’s only got a permit for it to stand for twenty years, and everyone in Paris can’t wait to see it go. An ‘eyesore’, they call it.” The Time Lord shook his head, laughing in complete disbelief. “Humans. You’re _amazing_ , you are. Absolutely amazing.”

“Twenty years?” Rose breathed, leaning into him. “Why only twenty years? Then how is it still around in my time?”

He scratched his cheek, never looking away from the iron structure. “It’s only here as the entrance to the Fair; Eiffel won the contest with this design. But they worked out that they could use it for communications during the war, so it stayed. And thirty years after that, Hitler will tell his forces in Paris to tear it down and it will be one of the few times his men will dare disobey him. Hitler himself will never go up—the legend will be passed on that though Hitler may have conquered France, he never conquered the Eiffel Tower.” He shook his head again, and Rose thought she saw his eyes glistening. “It’s beautiful, Rose. And so bloody _resilient_. Everyone and everything out there against it for so long, and still it stands.”

“Bit like the human race, then,” she said softly, smiling up at him. Surprised, he looked at her, then smiled back with such warmth that she felt her face grow hot.

“Bit like the human race, then,” he agreed. “So, d’you like it? Your surprise?”

“Well…” Disentangling herself from him, she walked away a few paces, pretending to think. Then, turning on her heel, she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Of _course_ I do, you absolute tosser! I love it. Thank you, thank you.”

She felt her feet leave the ground as he hugged her tightly, and she whooped with glee, drawing the gaze of several clusters of people making their way to the festivities. Slowly, she slid back to earth and placed a gloved hand over her mouth, still giggling softly. The Doctor adjusted his hat and coat with a wry smile of his own.

“Humans,” he said. “Don’t notice a TARDIS parked smack-dab in the centre of the Trocadéro, but they’re bothered by a wee bit of impropriety. Well, come on then, Rose Tyler.” Once more, he proffered his arm. “Let’s go to the Fair.”

***

Trams, employed by the city of Paris specifically for the World Fair, puttered in both directions across the street, claiming passengers from the edge of the Trocadéro and ferrying them across to the Eiffel Tower. Rose could see the hordes of people milling around its puddled iron legs, queuing up to buy tickets or go through into the Fair itself. She couldn’t help herself. As the Doctor moved to help her into a tram, she stopped him.

“Fancy a bit of a walk instead?” she asked, opening her parasol against the sun. When he looked doubtful, she tugged on his sleeve. “Oh, come on Doctor. Please? I just… I want to see everything. It’s like you said, remember? To Adam? You can’t just read the guide book. You’ve got to throw yourself in, right? Eat the food, use the wrong verbs, et cetera, come on!”

“Right, and look what happened to Adam!” the Time Lord returned, rolling his eyes—but he stepped away from the tram. “All right, then. But I’m not carrying you if your feet get tired.”

***

There were moments like these, few and far between at first (but getting more common all the time), when the Doctor realized that Rose could push back. By now, they both knew that she would follow him to the end of earth, but sometimes—even if only for a moment—she loved to catch him wondering if she might just be the one to lead _him_ there.

***

“Ah, _bien sûr_ , but you are most welcome, _Monsieur_ Ambassador!” cried the ticket agent, after his eyes had scanned across the psychic paper. “You and your lovely wife simply must explore the _Galerie des Machines_ ; I hear the most wonderful things! Please enjoy your visit to _l’Exposition Universelle_.”

“Your _wife_ , am I?” Rose whispered, smirking wickedly as they were herded towards the entrance. “Funny, I can’t recall the wedding. Was it nice?”

“You’re not careful, next time you’ll be my sister just out of the asylum,” he retorted, biting back his amusement.

While Rose reveled in the delights to her senses, he reveled in _her_. The warm weight of her body, pressed into his arm as she gawked at the sights and sounds all around her. The small sounds of joy she made, thinking he couldn’t hear her above the roar of the crowd. When she craned her neck to see further down the Champs de Mars, he caught the barest trace of her perfume and for a moment, his breath caught. Then she turned to him, smile wide and the barest hint of a pink tongue jutting out between her teeth.

“Where to first?” she asked, and she sounded as breathless as he felt.

“I thought that was my question to ask,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re the one meant to tell me I’m not as impressive as I think I am.”

“Well,” she sniffed, hazel eyes betraying her (as they always did), “you’re not. Someone’s got to remind you, might as well be me.”

He tightened his grip around her arm as they waded through the throng. “And I’d have it from no one else.”

He couldn’t be sure if she had heard him, though he supposed it didn’t really matter. He watched as her chin tilted suddenly towards the sky and she inhaled deeply before squeezing his arm with both of her own.

“Doctor, I smell _chocolate_.”

***

The pair lost nearly a half an hour at the stand of one of the city’s finest _chocolatiers_. Rose exclaimed over a replication of the Arc de Triomphe, crafted entirely from chocolate bars in their distinctive gold wrappers. She forgot herself entirely when the Doctor brought her a small array of _petit fours_ , nearly neglecting to insist that he share them with her. He settled the two of them down at a small café table just out of the shadow of the tower, and while he basked in the warm caramel of espresso against his tongue, she basked in _him_. His skin, normally cooler than her own by several degrees, was warmed by the sun when their fingers brushed over the small pastry fork they shared. The grey of his suit made the blue in his eyes all the more vivid as he teased her for taking the last bite of “that raspberry one you knew I liked best”. She drank in his happiness; let it fill her and complete her own sense of utter bliss. She wondered, not for the first time, how she had ever lived without him.

“How d’you feel about Wild West shows?” he asked her, jolting her from her thoughts.

“Hmm?” she asked, pretending she had been lost in some kind of chocolate-induced bliss. “How d’you mean, Wild West shows?”

“Well, I reckon I mean the rootin’-est, tootin’-est durn show you’ve just about ever seen, young lady,” he drawled (his American accent was unnervingly good). “I’m a-talkin’ ‘bout Buffalo Bill!”

She couldn’t help it—she squeaked again. “ _The_ Buffalo Bill? He’s here?”

“Yep!” The Northerner in him returned as he leaned across the table to her. “Wanna go?”

***

Never expect anything to stay consistent from one day to the next. That’s the first lesson of traveling through time and space. But there is something so reassuring, so constant, about the easy way their fingers meet and intertwine. These days, it is the only thing she is certain of.

***

Their enjoyment of the infamous Wild West show was cut short by a viciously sudden thunderstorm. Lightning cracked across the sky and Rose let out a whoop of joy as the Doctor took her hand and pulled her through the raindrops in search of shelter. Weaving in and out of the rest of the crowd, the two time travelers made their way into the entryway of the replica of the Bastille. Finding the doors locked, the Doctor quickly used his free hand to withdraw the sonic screwdriver, and the two soon stumbled their way inside. Still holding hands, they collapsed into each other and into the wall, euphoria illuminating their faces against the darkness of the hall. Rose let out a nervous giggle and it echoed loudly in the emptiness.

“So…where is everyone? First time today we’ve been away from the crowds…”

The Doctor looked around, bemused. “Don’t know. Can’t think why this building would have been closed to the public, unless…” His eyes landed on a small sign, in carefully printed French, and he released Rose’s hand to stride over to it. “Oh, yes!” he cried. “Fantastic!”

“What is it?” Without the Doctor’s hand wrapped firmly around her own, Rose suddenly felt the chill and damp of their rush through the rain. She shivered, and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to rub away the goosebumps that had crept up on her.

“It’s a ball, Rose. A celebration of the opening of the Fair. Did I pick a perfect day, or—” The sound of chattering teeth distracted him. “Rose?”

He turned to find his young companion shivering violently, and his mind reeled. He was at her side in an instant. “Rose! What’s wrong?” His eyes scanned her frantically for some sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

“‘M fine, Doctor. J-just a b-bit c-cold, is all.” She smiled up at him through her chattering teeth, and as his face softened in obvious relief, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Oh,” he said. “I thought—well…oh.”

Awkwardly, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and tentatively made to put it around her shoulders. Still shivering, she leaned forward to allow him better access, missing the way his eyes fell immediately to the gooseflesh sprinkled across her _décolletage_. Carefully, almost tenderly, he draped the soft grey fabric around her, and Rose could not help but notice how his hands lingered on her shoulders. She trembled again, though the cold no longer had anything to do with it.

“Thanks,” she managed, gazing up at him through her lashes before losing her nerve and averting her stare to the tiled floor.

“‘Course,” he replied, and she almost allowed herself to believe that his voice was lower and rougher than it had been a few moments ago.

His hands still rested on her shoulders. She felt his eyes on her downturned face and she forced herself to look up.

“Doctor?”

“Yes, Rose?”

“…What’s through there, then?” And suddenly, she ducked out from under his arm and walked towards a wide doorway. He felt the loss of her from under his fingers, and it burned like both fire and ice. He clenched and unclenched his hands reflexively before turning around to face her.

“Through there?” he said, his tone light and jovial once more. “Courtyard, I should think. I don’t hear the rain, so it sounds like it may be covered somehow. Shall we go and have a look?” And without waiting for an answer, he moved past her through the arch, leaving her no choice but to follow him.

***

She tried to convince herself otherwise, but the simple truth of the matter was that she was sometimes afraid of him. She had never been so sure and yet unsure of something in all her life. He was completely unpredictable—completely _alien_ , as she constantly had to remind herself. But more so than any of that, she found herself afraid of how much she already loved him.

***

With some highly impressive maneuvering, Rose had managed to arrange herself in a tolerably comfortable position on the vast, polished floor of the ballroom. The Doctor, despite some protesting that she assured him she didn’t believe anyway, lie next to her on the dark wood, and the two of them gazed upwards in silence. The silence itself might have been called amicable, if it hadn’t been for that moment in the entryway, which they were both steadfastly pretending to ignore.

When they had entered the ballroom, Rose had gasped out loud, spinning in wide, slow circles to take in the entire scene. She kept craning her neck to stare at the rich blue ceiling, peppered with delicate, golden _fleur-de-lis_ , and eventually opted for her current position on the floor.

“Kind of like the stars, ain’t they?” she said, after a long period of silence. The Doctor jumped slightly at the sudden comment, but then he smirked.

“If you squint _just_ the right way and have poor, human vision to boot,” he shot back, and looked pleased when Rose laughed.

“Dunno; guess they just remind me of you is all,” she confessed, still smiling. “Well, a bit.”

He didn’t respond, but she didn’t mind. She knew he thought he had managed to hide the upward quirk of his lips by turning his head away.

***

Her mother had always told her that nothing ventured was nothing gained—though she usually took a much more roundabout way of saying so. It was one of the reasons that she had taken the Doctor up on his offer the second time around. But there were times when she found it difficult to follow through on even this sensible mantra. When the risks seemed to far outweigh everything else, she tended to stumble. Getting burned by Jimmy Stone had made her careful, especially when it came to matters of the heart. The longer she traveled with the Doctor, however, the more her instincts began to kick in; until at last, she finally made the decision to close her eyes and leap.

***

“We’ve got company,” the Doctor said. His voice resonated straight through her, and Rose sat up quickly to scan the room. Still empty, as far as she could tell.

“Where?”

“Few minutes yet,” he replied, sitting up himself. “Didn’t want you in a tizzy if I could avoid it.”

“Well then,” she huffed. She was trying to stand as gracefully as possibly, taking into account the bustle and the delicate silk that she had managed to become hopelessly tangled in. “Bit of a hand here, if you don’t mind?”

The Doctor obliged, springing to his feet and offering both of his hands to her. She scowled at the amused grin on his face, and was caught off guard when he pulled her sharply to a standing position. She stumbled against him with a yelp, and he managed to catch her with his steady hands on her hips. She could have sworn that she heard him inhale as sharply as she did.

“Right, as I was saying,” she said, pretending as though her cheeks weren’t blazing with embarrassment. “How about a dance tonight, then?”

He looked confused, but he still hadn’t let go of her waist.

“At the ball.” She studied him closely. “We are going to the ball, aren’t we, Doctor?”

“Rose…” He sighed, and closed his eyes. It shocked her, sometimes, just how _tired_ he looked when he could act so young.

“Oh. ‘Course. We’ve got to get going, I’m sure. Things to do, places to go, yeah? Well…how ‘bout now? Quick dance?” She curled her tongue over her teeth as she smiled, though she was fairly sure she knew what his answer would be.

He didn’t disappoint. “Rose…”

“Sure,” she said, nodding sagely. “It was worth a shot, anyway. Just thought it would be the perfect end to today, but it’s all right.”

He sighed _again_ and repeated her name. But she wasn’t going to let him say it—not yet, and not ever, if he kept this up. Pushing her parasol to the crook of her elbow, she freed her hands for long enough to grab the soft fabric of his lapels. It gave way with a satisfying crinkle under her hands as she pulled him closer and laid her lips over his.

His breath was warm and sweet, with the faint remnants of the morning’s espresso and chocolate mingling with a taste that was entirely his own. She felt his body go tense, and she would have stopped had she not noticed the somewhat desperate way he suddenly fisted his hands into the blue silk at her waist. That aside, there was no response—but that was enough for her. After a moment, she pulled back and gracefully extricated herself from his grasp.

His face was unreadable, but the warning in his voice when he said her name for a fourth time was enough to make her head him off at the pass.

“Don’t moan on,” she said, keeping her own tone light. “I get it, Doctor. I just…I just wanted to see what it’d be like.” With that, she straightened her dress and made for the door.

“Come on then!” she called over her shoulder when she was almost there. “Don’t fancy being thrown in a French jail in the 1800s, d’you? Shift!”

***

For the Doctor, the best part of his new life was surprising Rose Tyler. He loved showing her worlds that had once been and ones that had yet to be. When she shuffled out from her bedroom in the mornings, he took great joy in the privilege of being the only one seeing her, all bleary-eyed and hair like a haystack on a windy day. There were other kinds of awakenings too, less familiar, but no less exciting. When she learned to say the name of a new planet, remembered how to program coordinates into the TARDIS, or brought him a cup of tea when he hadn’t even asked, he felt something stir inside him that he’d long believed to be dead. Lately, when she looked into his eyes, he was beginning to feel like he could possibly deserve her, if only he could bring himself to break through the boundaries he’d set for himself years ago.

And when she’d said, “I’d just wanted to see what it’d be like,” he resolved to let himself try.


End file.
